Always There
by Lina Girl
Summary: *This is a paring of The Grinch and Cindy Lou Who based on the movie "How The Grinch Stole Christmas" w/ Jim Carrey* The two look back on the good times they had together. And their feelings for eachother. R
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is just a random little thought for a couple I rather like, which is The Grinch and Cindy Lou Who. Actually, they kind of remind me of Beetlejuice and Lydia. :) Anyways, I know not a lot of people think of this pairing, so I'm grateful to anyone who reads it. Thanks for reading. If anyone would like me to continue, just leave a review. **

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I stood outside, looking down at the Whoville village, my green fur moving with the chilly air.

It was a Sunday morning, not quite early enough for everyone to awaken yet. Martha was asleep in their bedroom, as was everyone else in Whoville, except for me. I was outside, thinking.

Ever since Martha and I had gotten married, I had begun to think more. I noticed how secretive Martha had become, and how many times she got drunk every night. More then myself, which surprised me. I was twenty eight now, and it was my limit. I had found out that a Grinch stopped growing at the age of twenty eight, so, I was stuck now. I was supposed to be thirty three years ago, but I hadn't changed a bit. Martha had, however, and I suspected she was cheating on me (whether with the Mayor or the Police Officer I wasn't sure yet), but surprisingly, I didn't mind. Or, I wasn't angry. I had noticed someone too.

Cindy Lou Who was twenty now, and had changed from the shy, small girl I knew ten years ago. She had grown significant curves, and she had grown in height as well. Mostly, she didn't wear her hair intricately anymore. She now wore it in long, blonde curls down her back. All in all, she wasn't the cute, shy little girl anymore. She was beautiful.

I knew that I couldn't have her of course. She deserved to marry a regular who. One who didn't like burping contests, or smell like a fish (although I had showered more then often, so the fish smell was shrinking). Aside from that, ever since Cindy Lou had showed me the joy of Christmas, we had become best friends.

We had spent a lot of time together since the day I had saved her. Having snowball fights, building snowmen, sliding from the junk shaft. I was closer to her then I had been with Max. We shared more time then Martha May and I had in a year. In that time, I noticed her more and more.

I noticed how her eye's sparkled when she fell in the snow, her dress flowing. I noticed how warm her cheeks were when she caught the chicken pox, and how I had sat next to her the whole time, feeding her and making her laugh. I remembered the day she had almost fallen off an ice edge, and when I had saved her from death. She had kissed me on the cheek in a thank you gesture, and even today I could still feel the warmth of where she had kissed me. I knew why I could still feel that warmth. I had known since the day I met her.

I was in love with her.

It was inevitable. She could never love someone as disgusting as I was. It was against the laws of nature. She would probably marry some rich who down in Whoville, have kids, and live a fantasy life.

Just as she should.

But I'd always help her, no matter how bad it would hurt her. Even now, when girls teased her for her being different, I comforted her the best way that I could. It usually helped. We ended up laughing about it later, and I like that. That was the least I could do for her.

If that was the kind of happiness she would have, then I would see that she had it. I knew I couldn't have her, so the least I could do was give her that happiness.

It was the right thing to do.

CPOV

My best friend, Grinch.

I never saw him as a nuisance, as most did. When I met him ten years ago, I knew he had a kind heart. He just hadn't realized it yet.

When I had found out about him, I really did think I could change his heart. His heart was two times smaller then the average heart of a regular Who, and that was shocking to me. I had been raised to love the colors of pink and to respect, but also to do as to told, and that children must be seen and not heard. When I heard about Grinch, and when he had saved me from the present machine, I knew he had some good in him, no matter how small.

I began to remember some of the wonderful times I had spent with him since he had given "Christmas" back to Whoville. The walks in the park, playing catch with Max, looking for different treasures in the junk yard on Mount Crumpit. I also thought about how he smelled a lot nicer every day. I figured he was showering a bit more, or cleaning up his messes more often. That was nice. I especially remembered the time he had saved me from falling of the cliff again. I had been standing to close to the edge, when I lost my footing and almost fell over. He had caught my arm, and pulled me back up. He had hugged me, telling me never to do that again. In a thank you gesture, I had kissed his cheek. I thought then it was just a friendly kiss, but now, it seemed like something more to me. I would have assumed his cheek would be rough, but it was just as I remembered the first time I had kissed him. It was warm and soft as a feather.

Just like his heart.

It was now the size of a regular heart, or, somewhat like it. Even the thought of his warm, green fur brought a blush to my cheeks. It was pretty obvious why, even to me.

I was in love with Grinch. My Grinch.

I swear it must have been obvious to Martha May, since I was pretty sure she was cheating on Grinch. Secretly, I didn't mind much. I would always help the Grinch through anything, but I knew she wasn't right for him. She was too obsessed about her looks, and his appearance. Especially now that she was growing older, but Grinch wasn't.

That made me think as well. He was twenty eight, and I was twenty. I hadn't changed much. The only difference was my hair, which wasn't as intricately done anymore. I preferred to wear it down my back loose. It felt more comfortable then tight braids all over my hair. The other girls had teased me for that, and the fact that I hung out with Grinch. He always defended me though, and made me feel better when the teasing got too much. He was always good at making me laugh, no matter how bad I was hurt. When I had fallen on the snow bank and skinned my knee, he made me laugh my imitating various animals falling down the same way I had.

He was good to me, unlike the other boys and girls I had met. Now that I was twenty, I was over that stage, but I knew that all I needed was him.

And he was all that I'd ever need.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: people requested some more, so PLEASE let me know if it's good. Thank you to those who requested more. Appreciate it. :)**

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"Grinch quit hogging all the cookies!" I scolded, taking the plate back. He scowled at me, his mouth full of green and red colored crumbs.

"Well then don't make such damn good cookies," he grumbled, letting out a loud burp of satisfaction. Rolling my eyes, I put the tray back on the table next to his bed. I pulled the green and black blanket up to his chin, oblivious to his objections that he "was not freaking sick" and "did not need to be taken care of" for the fiftieth time. Two days ago he'd begun to sneeze uncontrollably, and the day after his voice had all but disappeared. If those weren't signs of a cold or the flu I didn't know what was. Today he had only complained of a body sore, but I wasn't taking any chances. Martha had left five hours ago for "groceries"(we weren't stupid, we both knew she was going to see the Mayor), as she had the day before, and the day before that, so for now it was just he and myself. I wasn't complaining though.

"Cindy, can I please have some so-"

"No, only ginger ale," I interrupted, smirking at his dismayed expression. Sighing, he eventually gave up the grumbling and settled back into the blankets, giving a slight smile when I rested my hand on his forehead. It was a little warmer then the day before, and that worried me. Each day seemed to be set onto a different symptom, and since today was the body sore, I didn't really want to know what the next day would be. I sat down on the edge of his bed, and he twisted a lock of my hair between his green fingers, gently. As we both were silent, each thinking our own thoughts, the wind blew gently outside the window he had added a few months ago, as he had been slowly renovating his "lair". He had made many little changes since my 23rd birthday. The window, for one, and the fact that he had installed more lights so I wouldn't trip as often, which had come as a big help. The floor wasn't as much a mess either, some of his inventions in specific locations. The color was still the same though: messy green. Nothing would ever change that. Martha had attempted to add a few small touches to their bedroom in the beginning, some pink and rose here and there, but when Grinch had come home one evening to discover that his bedspread and walls were a rosy peach, he threw the bedspread out and tore up the wallpaper, much to Martha's dislike. I'd been thirteen then, and ever since that argument, she'd be out later, the wine bottles disappearing with more frequency, as Grinch confessed to me. "It's just not the same as it used to be Cindy," he had confided in me, after he had heard from a neighbor of Martha taking a stroll with the Mayor late the other night. I'd put an arm around him comfortingly, knowing that while I was young, I knew the obvious signs that the couple was showing. Almost 13 years later, and they still hadn't separated. To be honest, it was annoying me. What was the point of keeping up pretenses when things had fallen apart long ago? Sighing out loud, I knew the answer already; Martha didn't want to ruin her reputation.

"What was that sigh for?" Grinch asked, interrupting my thoughts. I thought before speaking aloud, choosing my words.

"Grinch, why haven't you and Martha separated?" I asked softly, turning my head to look at him. His yellow eyes widened in surprise at the randomness of my question, then closed as he prepared to answer; I'd heard it before.

"Cindy, you know I would have left her years ago, but she just likes keeping up shows. I've tried communicating to her that its obvious things haven't worked out, but she keeps insisting that, we 'work things out'. Trouble is, we both know she's seeing that fat bastard, but she won't give it up," he said quietly, leaning his head back into the pillows. I pressed my hand to his warm cheek, offering what comfort I could give him. He leaned into my hand, sighing again. I stroked his soft green fur, knowing there was nothing left to say. We stayed that way for a longer period of time, and before I knew it, it was 8 o'clock, and time for me to get home. Sadly, I still lived with my parents, since I was still a single girl in Whoville. I would have gladly lived with Grinch, but I was pretty sure my parents wouldn't have approved of my living with a supposed married couple. I removed my hand from his cheek gently, as he had fallen asleep half an hour ago, left a short note saying I'd be back again early morning, made sure Max had enough food, and locked the door on my way out.

I looked down on Whoville for a moment, thinking about where Martha was, in whose arms she was resting at the moment. Scowling, I reached down and took the spare key, not caring who the hell she stayed with as long as it wasn't my Grinch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter! :) I'm so proud for updating. Happy New Year everyone! As I write this, it is 1:19 AM :) **

**Any feedback would be lovely and gladly appreciated. (: Thank you to everyone who reviewed; you guys keep me going! **

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When I woke up in them morning, the body sore was gone. The moment I realized it was gone, I felt like something was moving in my stomach, so I leaned over and threw up into a trashcan next to my bed.

When the bile had left my mouth, I spit into the trashcan, before wiping my mouth on the sheet cover. Now I knew what today's symptom would be.

"Dammit," I cursed, before retching again, my face back into the trashcan. When I finished again, I slowly lied back down onto bed, closing my eyes and trying not to imagine the room spinning. As I lay there, I figured by the light of the sun through my window that it was early morning, maybe 6 or 7. I'd already realized that Cindy had left last night, but I was fairly certain she'd return. In the meantime, I had some time to think, something I didn't particularly like to do about certain subjects.

I knew Martha hadn't come back the night before either, though I did remember some light thumping, though from where the sound came from I wouldn't have known. It couldn't have been Cindy, because she knew where the key was… With a pinch of glee, I smiled, thinking it had probably been Martha May.

"Serves her right, damn hussy," I whispered, knowing she'd never bothered to keep her own key with her, since she never spent many nights here anyway. I stopped thinking about her then, moving my thoughts from light brown hair and sultry eyes to long blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. I remembered some good times, baking cookies and fixing them after I burned the first batch. Cindy had laughed at my embarrassment, before smiling at me and putting the entire can of green frosting on the burnt parts so that they tasted better. That had been four years ago. I remembered the time because four years ago I had argued with Martha May again about a separation, which she bluntly refused.

Suddenly, I felt the bile come back, and I turned my head above the trash can again, retching. I knew it was the cookies coming back, along with the chicken soup Cindy had made. When I finished, I wiped my mouth on the corner of the bedspread again, breathing through my mouth to try to calm myself. Thank goodness I had decided to keep my place a bit cleaner or else the smells of the rotten food would have made me throw up more frequently. I sighed once more, and tried to remember better things to keep my mind off of the pain in my stomach, and the taste in my mouth. I remembered when Cindy had gotten sick herself when she was 12, the way her already rosy cheeks had turned darker because of her fever, 101 degrees. Her parents had done their best to care for her, feeding her warm soups and cookies, but she hadn't gotten any better, even after a week. Finally, as a last resort, they sent a letter to me, begging for me to come and cheer her up, as they had banned me from seeing her a month ago. I'd heard she screamed and cried when they forbade her from seeing me, in the letters she sent with Max. How she missed me terribly, and wished she could see me again. What she hadn't told me was that she was getting sick; she had said she didn't want to worry me when I showed up later. She hadn't written to me in a week, and I had assumed that she had finally gotten wise and tired of me. When I had gotten a normal letter via Who-postage from her parents, and then brought myself to read it, I pulled on my brown traveling cloak and set off for the curved pink house next to Martha May's old home. The moment I showed up, her parents had hidden their grimace and let me through to her pink and white bedroom, the covers on her large bed all the way up to her chin. She had looked sicker then a dog when I stepped into the room, but the moment her eyes found me, her bright Cindy-Lou smile lit her face, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"How did you know?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"Believe it or not, your parents sent for me," I told her, sitting at the edge of her bed. I reached out to move a lock of blonde hair out of her forehead, when my finger brushed her forehead, and I was surprised at how warm she was.

"What did you do Cindy, swallow a burner?" I asked her, watching her face. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, before she let out a shaky sigh that was probably a laugh.

"Now I know not to play in the snow without gloves," she sighed, closing her eyes at my cool skin.

"Cindy you know that's an old wives tale. Geez, did the fever burn all your brain cells?" I teased her. Slowly, she raised her hand out from under the covers, and lightly smacked my green furry arm with as much force as she could.

"Meanie," she sighed, and I could hear her voice getting a little stronger. I hadn't left her room until she had gotten better, which was about four days. They always did say that laughter was the best medicine.

I couldn't help but smile as I remembered her recovery, and the days following them, until the bile came back and forced me to shove my head back into the trashcan. I heard the door open suddenly, and I couldn't help but smile as Cindy walked through my bedroom door, a bowl of soup in her hands. Her blue eyes filled with worry as she saw what I was doing, and she quickly set the soup on my night table, pushing the trashcan closer.

"So it's vomiting this time?" she asked, wiping the corner of my mouth with her handkerchief.

"You don't have to do that," I muttered, leaning back on the bed. She ignored me, wiping my mouth clean. When I'd rested my head back down, she threw out the trash into a larger bag, putting a new bag in. Before I could say anything she left the room and returned a minute later with a new green blanket, changing the top sheet with the new one.

"I feel like a child," I commented, my voice a little gruff. To be honest, I didn't mind the attention, but I did have some pride.

"I'm just returning the favor. Friends help friends don't they?" she smiled kindly, pulling up a chair. I smiled back, pushing the word "friend" back into perspective.

How I would have loved to erase the term "friend" and replace it with something else.

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**Sorry it's kind of short. Maybe a filler, but I definately love writing this, and more will be on its way. **


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